


Clarity

by Tedronai



Series: The End of an Age [2]
Category: Wheel of Time - Robert Jordan
Genre: Age of Legends, Fluff and Angst, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-28
Updated: 2014-06-28
Packaged: 2018-02-06 14:34:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1861476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tedronai/pseuds/Tedronai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Barid was real while Elan sometimes couldn’t tell where his imagination ended and the real world began. Barid was safe and familiar in a world full of strangers. Barid was clarity in the midst of confusion. Barid was the eye of the storm. Barid was everything.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clarity

**Author's Note:**

> Or alternatively, "You Didn't Need Your Heart Anyway, Right?" *grin* I hope the brief PoV switch there in the middle isn't too confusing; I agonised over whether to include it but in the end I couldn't scrap it.

Barid rubbed his hands together for warmth. He hadn’t expected to need gloves; the party was indoors, after all. He hadn’t anticipated that getting there would take so long. He probably should have, all things considered. He looked at Elan, who stood as if rooted to the street, staring blankly in the general direction of the brightly lit building that was their destination, at least in theory.

“We don’t have to go, you know,” Barid said for the third time. He tried not to sound disappointed; he did want to go to the party, but he had also just spent the better part of an hour talking to the bathroom door after Elan had locked himself inside and he really, _really_ didn’t want to guilt Elan into attending a social event if he wasn’t up to it.

Elan shook his head slowly. “No, I’m expected to show up,” he said, sounding resigned. The Midwinter Ball was one of the most prestigious social events of the year and those invited were almost without exception people with successful careers, people who had earned their third name, but every year two of the best and the brightest new graduates — one man, one woman — were also invited… And Elan always had been the best of his year. That he was also fundamentally unprepared to deal with such situations just never seemed to occur to anybody.

Thankfully, the invitations were plus one, because there was no way he would have gone alone, or together with Latra Posae, the self-possessed young woman who had landed the other invitation this year. Barid had only ever spoken to her a few times, but she seemed exactly the kind of person who would thrive on events such as this, seize all the opportunities they offered with both hands and come out into the new year with a whole bunch of new connections and most likely an internship offer or three. Which was all fine and good for her, Barid had nothing against the woman and wished her well enough, but she really didn’t seem the type he could trust to look out for Elan.

“Well, then,” he said. “We can make an appearance, shake hands with the First or whatever it is you’re expected to do, and if it still sucks we can leave.”

Elan glanced at him with a faint smile. “You make it sound so simple.”

Barid shrugged. “I am a simple man, as Lews likes to remind me.”

Elan gave a half-hearted snort. “Lews wouldn’t know complexity if it jumped on the table and danced the sazara,” he muttered. He took a deep breath and started forward… And stopped again, shoulders slumping. “This is going to be a disaster. I’m going to say something stupid and morbid or insult someone I shouldn’t or faint in the middle of the reception or something.”

Barid shook his head. “Look, it’s going to be fine,” he said, but the words rang hollow in his own ears. How did one convince someone as brilliant as Elan that he was wrong? Sometimes — most of the time, to be fair — it was a task far beyond Barid’s decidedly average intellect. He turned to his friend and put his hands on Elan’s shoulders. “I don’t know what to say, man. But I swear to you, you’re going to be fine and everyone’s going to be impressed with you.”

Elan raised an eyebrow, no doubt about to make a self-deprecating comment, but Barid pulled him into his arms before he could speak. Elan leaned into the embrace, resting his head on Barid’s shoulder, and some of the rigid tension left him. Barid made no move to end the hug until Elan did — and if they ended up standing there all night like idiots, he thought, so be it. He had done more idiotic things in his lifetime for worse reasons.

Eventually, however, Elan sighed and took a step back. He looked up at Barid and forced a smile. “Let’s go, then.”

 

They were waved in by a bored-looking doorman after a cursory inspection of Elan’s letter of invitation. In a sharp contrast, as soon as they had left their cloaks with the servants in the hall, a short, pale woman in dark yellow silks hurried towards them, a small display screen in hand. She was all but glaring and everything about her, from her rigid posture to the lines around her full mouth, shouted disapproval. She tapped at the screen with a delicate finger. “Elan Morin?” she said impatiently — addressing Barid.

Barid glanced at his friend, who looked like he’d rather be anywhere else. “No, er, ma’am. Barid Bel. A pleasure.” He sketched a hasty bow as the level of disapproval seemed to shoot up a notch. “This is Elan.”

The woman directed a sceptical frown at Elan, as if she were wondering whether there had been some kind of a mistake. Barid hated her. “Well, come along, then!” she snapped, emphasising her words with a sharp gesture as she turned to lead them along the hallway. Elan and Barid hurried after her.

 

The reception was held in a private sitting room on the second floor. The First Among the Servants, Rayn Ellis Altamon, was accompanied by Duram Laddel Cham and Evalle Morrad Siderea, the Holders of the Third and Fifth Rods of Dominion, and the Principal of the Academy, Lene Aren Tavar. Latra Posae was there already, too. Of course. _She_ wouldn’t be running late, Barid thought less than charitably, although he had to admit that neither would he if it were up to him alone. There was also a reporter and a camera crew wearing the colours of one of the biggest broadcasting companies of all the Dominions.

The short woman ushered Elan to take his place beside Latra, and Barid wasn’t sure whether he was supposed to stay back — Latra didn’t seem to have brought a date so he had nobody to take example of — but he figured that someone would let him know if he wasn’t supposed to be there and stuck to Elan’s side.

“Mister Morin, I presume,” Rayn Ellis said. The First had a pleasant, deep but melodic voice that Barid was sure had more than a little to do with his popularity; one could listen to it forever.

“Yes, sir,” Elan replied, bowing as he shook the offered hand. “Please, accept my apologies for being late. I make no excuses; the fault is entirely mine.” For a wonder, he sounded perfectly confident; appropriately apologetic for making important people wait, yes, but there was not a trace of the nervous wreck he had been but moments earlier. Barid felt such an absurd surge of pride in his friend that he had to focus on not grinning like an idiot.

The First smiled. “No harm done, son.” Then he nodded towards Barid and asked, “Who’s your companion?”

“Barid Bel, sir,” Barid replied with a bow. “An honour to meet you, sir.” He could act exactly as smooth as Elan — or Lews — when he put his mind to it.

“You’re not one of this year’s graduates, are you?” the First asked. “I don’t remember seeing your name on the lists.”

Barid shook his head. “No, sir. I still have two years left.”

“Is that so?” Duram Laddel said with a grin. “Unless I’m very badly mistaken, that makes you the youngest person ever to attend this event! Perhaps we’ll see you again in two years’ time, then.”

Barid’s grin died and he had to force a polite smile. “Perhaps,” he replied. Maybe there was some chance, he told himself. Not a very big chance, not with Lews Therin on his year, but… Well, even Lews had to screw up some time, no matter how he never seemed to get into serious trouble whatever he did. Maybe the universe was saving up his due share of bad luck for something big. If it kept saving it up for much longer, it was likely to break the world if it was all released at once.

 

“Two minutes and we’re broadcasting,” the reporter said, tapping her display screen and switching on her earpiece. “…Three, two…” She turned to the camera, smiling. “Thank you, Arvin! As you can see, we are all ready to welcome the New Year here in Paraan Disen! I have the First Among the Servants, Rayn Ellis Altamon himself with me tonight, as well as Duram Laddel Cham of the Third Dominion, Evalle Morrad Siderea of the Fifth Dominion, Lene Aren Tavar of the Paraan Disen Academy and, as the most outstanding new graduates of the past year, miss Latra Posae and mister Elan Morin.”

Barid wanted to hide behind Elan — it was getting quite obvious that he shouldn’t have been there — but it was too late now and he focused on trying not to look too embarrassed and out of place as the interview proceeded. The tradition of including the students — well, graduates — was a relatively recent one; Rayn Ellis had done it on a whim four years ago and it had resulted in a lot of good publicity for the Academy and, of course, for the First himself as his interest in the education of the next generations had been lauded all over the media. Barid only half listened to the discussion, which covered topics like the new wing to the Academy library, the construction of which was going to begin next summer, and the new research centre that was being built at the Collam Daan university in V’Saine. Latra Posae expressed politely measured enthusiasm when the reporter asked what she thought about the projects… and then it was Elan’s turn.

“I think it’s a very ambitious and a very, very arrogant project,” he said, regarding the research centre. The reporter’s smile froze for a split-second and someone, Barid thought it was the Principal, inhaled sharply. Elan went on, “That may not have been the best possible choice of words. I apologise. But when you think about it… Why build a research centre that floats in the sky? Why, because we can. And that is arrogance, but it’s also the single most important reason humanity has ever achieved anything, ever tried anything new that became a success. ‘Because why not?’ It’s in our nature to push boundaries, and I think that’s wonderful.”

“Well! That is certainly an interesting take on the matter,” the reporter chimed with a bright smile that was as fake as the colour of her hair.

 

After the interview there was another round of pleasantries exchanged back and forth, and the short woman in yellow dress appeared again, presumably to herd Latra, Elan and Barid off. As they were about to follow her, Rayn Ellis himself walked up to them. “I’ll have a word with mister Morin, if you don’t mind, Malisa?”

“Of course,” the woman replied, and attempted to herd Barid along out of the door after Latra. “Just remember you need to be in the Music Hall in twenty-five minutes.”

Barid looked at Elan, then the First, trying to find a good enough excuse to stay. The First noticed, and chuckled. “You can stay, mister Bel, was it? Malisa, see that miss Posae gets introduced to Eloise Ramman, will you.”

“Yes, yes,” Malisa replied with a touch of impatience and a decidedly unimpressed glare in Barid’s general direction. At the door she turned one last time to say, “Music Hall, Rayn. Twenty minutes. Be there.”

“Is there a precedent, sir?” Elan asked once the woman was gone.

The First looked startled. “For?”

“She seems to think you’re likely to forget to show up to your next appointment, sir,” Elan explained. “I was wondering if that’s something that happens often.” Barid winced mentally, preparing to jump in to his friend’s defence, but the First actually laughed out loud.

“Between you and me, son,” he said with a twinkle in his eye, “It has been known to happen. Once or twice.”

“That’s good to hear.”

“How come?” The First sounded curious, not offended, but Barid began to consider just dragging Elan out anyway before he could say something that crossed the line.

“It shows that our leaders are still human,” Elan replied with a faint smile.

The First looked thoughtful. “You have a lot of interesting thoughts, mister Morin,” he said eventually. “I must head to the Music Hall now. Walk with me.” He glanced at Barid, and a wry smile touched his lips. “Fear not, mister Bel, I shan’t keep you from the celebrations for much longer.”

Barid blushed, and ducked his head to hide a grimace. He had tried not to look too worried, but apparently the result had made him look impatient, instead. Elan had feared embarrassment but it was Barid who ended up making an idiot of himself, as ever, and this time without even opening his mouth. Well, he thought wryly as he followed half a step behind Elan and the First, he could live with it.

“Your comment on the arrogance of the Sharom project, especially,” the First continued as he led them along the wide hallways. “That’s a sentiment I’ve heard before, but never in such positive light. Those who call it arrogance are the ones speaking against the project, calling it unnecessarily risky and a waste of resources.”

“Oh.” Elan frowned. “I wasn’t aware of this. I probably should have been.” He hesitated for a moment. “Sir… I wasn’t trying to make a political statement.”

“I know,” the First replied, making a soothing gesture. “But you may have made one, anyway, regardless of what you intended.” Then, unexpectedly, he grinned. “And to be honest with you, if you had to go and make an accidental political statement on live broadcast, you couldn’t have made a better one.”

Elan nodded slowly. “I see what you mean,” he said. “We cannot argue that the Sharom project isn’t arrogant, because it is. But we can argue that a certain kind of arrogance is needed to get things done. A man — or a woman for that matter — needs a certain level of arrogance to step up to a leadership position. Think about running for the office.” Barid winced at this and tried to nudge Elan to shut the hell up, but the other man was completely caught up in his epiphany and went on, “It takes some arrogance to stand up and say, ‘I can do this better than the other candidates, therefore you should select me.’ And where it’s justified, when the person is really the best man — or woman — for the job, it’s not a bad thing. Quite the contrary. They have the ability, and the nerve to advertise it, and themselves, in order to make people make the decision that will serve in the best interest of everyone. False modesty never served anyone.”

The First nodded, looking thoughtful once more. “I agree on that last count, although I’m not entirely sure how the Hall would take being called arrogant… Although Light knows that’s an accurate assessment, and not always in a good sense.” He seemed to remember who he was talking to and shook his head sharply. “Well, that’s neither here nor there. The Music Hall is right here, and I’m afraid I have to leave you now. I expect to hear a lot from you in the years to come, Elan Morin. But for now, enjoy the rest of your evening. Both of you.” He smiled as he spotted the yellow-clad figure of Malisa waiting at the door to the Music Hall. “And look, I’m right on time!”

 

Elan and Barid bade their farewell to the First, whose attention was already elsewhere, and then started back the way they’d come, towards the Hall of Revels, where the main part of the celebrations was taking place. They were about halfway there when Elan spoke again. “Please tell me my memory is malfunctioning and I did _not_ just call Rayn Ellis Altamon arrogant.”

Barid glanced sideways at him. “Um…”

Elan groaned and hid his face in his hands. “I am a disaster,” he muttered.

Barid wasn’t sure what to say to that. “He didn’t seem to mind, though?” he offered eventually.

“No,” Elan said. “I suppose he really didn’t.” A silence. Then, “I need a drink.”

Barid didn’t disagree.

 

A while later they were sitting at one of the tables lining the walls of the Hall of Revels, drinking something clear and sparkling that Barid at least didn’t know the proper name of. It was sweeter than any wine he had tasted, but not in the cloying, sickening way of some overly sweet wines. Barid watched the dancing couples; he had seen Latra among them every now and then, dancing with a different partner each time. She appeared to be quite at home here.

“My mother made me learn to dance, for this,” he said, turning his attention to Elan. “I don’t know what she was thinking. How exactly am I supposed to ask anyone here to dance? There’s not a soul here tonight who isn’t at least two hundred years older than us, and they’re all Important People besides…”

“’Excuse me, madam, you remind me of my grandmother. Might I have this dance?’” Elan suggested wryly.

Barid barked a laugh. “Yeah, thanks, I think I’ll pass…”

Elan downed his drink — Barid was relatively sure it wasn’t supposed to be drank that fast — and looked at him. “Well, do you want to dance?”

“I guess,” Barid said, frowning. “But I really don’t think that’s going to work…”

Elan shook his head with a faint, amused smile. “No, I mean, do you want to dance with me?”

Barid blinked. Elan was watching him with one eyebrow raised, head tilted slightly, and there was a spark in his eyes that Barid hadn’t seen for far too long… And that decided it for him. “Oh, why not?” He stood and flourished a theatrical bow. “May I have this dance?” He offered his hand to Elan, who took it and followed him to the dance floor.

 

From there, the evening really seemed to pick up at last. They danced, together and with others but more often together, and they drank wine, and if they attracted a few bemused looks, well, Barid couldn’t bring himself to care. He was having fun, and more importantly, Elan was having fun, laughing, even, and it had been such a long time since Barid had last heard him laugh. He had never even realised that something was missing. It made him feel like a bad friend. But he didn’t let himself dwell on it, not tonight when everything was fine, at least for a little while.

It was close to one a.m. — to the changing of the year — when they headed out to a balcony for a breath of fresh air. It was cold outside, the sky was clear and a nearly full moon tried to compete with the lights of Paraan Disen. Barid leaned casually on the railing, looking down at the snow-covered garden. Elan stood next to him, arms wrapped about himself. It took Barid a moment to notice that he was shivering.

“Cold?” Barid asked.

“What makes you think so?” Elan replied wryly. “It’s only Midwinter.”

“Right, yes, okay, dumb question.” Barid grinned. “We can go back inside if you want?”

Elan shook his head. “Not yet.”

“Alright.” Barid moved closer and put his arms around his friend. Elan leaned against him with a contented sigh. “Better?” Barid asked.

“Perfect,” Elan replied.

 

Elan knew he was somewhat drunk. Probably more so than he realised, judging by the fact that he was unsure of exactly how drunk he was. But it didn’t matter. The beautiful night mattered, the cold, crystal clear winter sky, the city lights. Barid mattered. Barid’s arms around him mattered, Barid’s solid presence anchoring him to reality, to this moment, making the world make sense for a while. Barid had that talent, making things make sense, even as he claimed that Elan was the more intelligent one. And maybe that was right — it probably was — but all his alleged brilliance had never helped him make sense of anything. Whereas Barid… did. Barid was real while Elan sometimes couldn’t tell where his imagination ended and the real world began. Barid was safe and familiar in a world full of strangers. Barid was clarity in the midst of confusion. Barid was the eye of the storm. Barid was everything.

Barid must have sensed the change in the mood, because then he spoke again. “Are you okay?”

Elan nodded. “I’m fine.” And then, without really planning to, he turned to face Barid… and kissed him.

 

Surprised as he was, Barid returned the kiss. He’d never kissed a guy before and a part of him was surprised by how different it wasn’t. The main difference, actually, was that Elan was taller than any girls he had ever kissed and he didn’t have to bend so low, and that was kind of nice. But ‘kind of nice’ was all it was. He broke off the kiss and took a step back. Elan looked back at him, pale and wide-eyed and shivering in the cold breeze. In the background, bells were ringing and fireworks illuminated the sky, marking the official changing of the year.

“Elan, I’m sorry—”

“No, I’m sorry,” Elan interrupted him. “That was stupid, that was the most stupid thing I’ve ever done. I’m sorry, I’m an idiot. I’m… sorry.” His shoulders slumped and he bowed his head, looking somewhere in the general direction of Barid’s feet. “I’m a disaster.”

“No, you’re not,” Barid said, trying to sound convincing, frantically trying to find something useful to say. “And I _am_ sorry. It’s just that I… Well, I like girls. Apparently exclusively.” He trailed off; this wasn’t making anything better. Why did he have to be so bad at communicating what he was thinking? Although to be fair, he wasn’t entirely sure what he was thinking. All he knew was that he had hurt Elan, no matter how unintentionally, no matter that it wasn’t his fault, or anyone’s fault; he had hurt Elan and that was the last thing under the Light he had ever intended. Not Elan. Never Elan. “I’m sorry,” he repeated.

Elan shook his head. “It’s fine,” he said. “It’s not your fault.” His voice trembled and he turned away, leaning on the railing. “It’s not your fault.”

Barid was at a loss; this was not a situation he knew how to deal with, nor one he had ever imagined he would have to deal with. He didn’t even know if Elan genuinely felt something for him or if this was just some drunken fancy gone dramatically wrong. Cautiously, unsure of how the other man would react, he put his arms around Elan again and, when he didn’t resist, pulled him close. He wasn’t sure how long they stood like that, neither moving nor speaking. The last of the fireworks faded, leaving the sky cold and black. Despite the moon and all the lights of Paraan Disen, the night felt dark in comparison.

“I do love you, Elan,” Barid said eventually. “I hope you know that.” He was vaguely aware that he should probably just shut up and not confuse things any further, but now that he had begun, he found that he couldn’t stop. “I love you so much it hurts, sometimes, but not like that.” He drew a deep breath, blinking furiously and cursing himself for drinking so much. He wasn’t usually the emotional kind of drunk — but then again there was nothing ‘usual’ about the situation. “I want you to be happy. I want to be a good friend to you, Elan. I want to be someone you can count on. I want you to know I’ll always be there for you. I…” He cut off awkwardly; he hadn’t meant to go on like that. “I do love you,” he repeated. “But not like that.”

There was another long silence, until Elan spoke again. “I know,” he said quietly. “It’s fine. It’s fine.” He gave a short, self-deprecating laugh that sounded all too close to tears. “I hope I haven’t ruined everything.”

“You haven’t ruined anything,” Barid said fiercely, holding him tighter. Only the slightly unsteady breathing told him Elan was crying.

 

Eventually they had to return indoors. They stayed for a while longer — neither wanted to end the party on such a dramatic note — but afterwards Barid couldn’t remember much about what had passed after they returned to the Hall of Revels. He had danced with someone, an older, dignified-looking woman with streaks of grey in her long, black hair, but he had been too anxious to return to Elan to pay much attention to whatever she was saying. After that, he had suggested that they leave, and Elan had agreed.

It was snowing gently by the time they got out. They walked in silence towards the campus, and only when they were almost there did either of them remember that Elan didn’t live there anymore; he had a small flat on the other side of the city, now.

“Ah, it doesn’t matter,” Elan said. “I’ll just walk back. I don’t mind. I like walking.”

Barid looked at his friend, who didn’t look all too steady on his feet, and shook his head. “Don’t be silly. You can stay with me for tonight.”

Elan glanced up at him before returning his attention to the footprints of some small animal in the snow. “I don’t want to be a bother.”

“Don’t be silly,” Barid repeated. He had an uneasy feeling that it would be a mistake to leave Elan alone tonight. “Or if you don’t want to crash on my couch, I’ll walk back with you.”

Elan looked up again and this time held his gaze for a while. Barid had the feeling that Elan knew exactly what he was thinking and didn’t disagree. Then Elan smiled, the sorriest excuse of a smile Barid had ever seen, but nonetheless. “Alright. If you insist.”


End file.
